Weather the Storm (Security Specialists International #3) (28 page)

“Vanko,” said Keely, “Tweeter and I have been covering your trail while you’ve been on the phone. That includes all the cameras anyone might’ve hacked into at the Virginia motel and the street cameras outside the Russian ambassador’s house. Both have lost twenty-four hours of memory. We covered the cameras at the airport hotel you used by Reagan National the same night you called in.”

“Thanks.” Vanko logged into his SSI account and sent the GPS tracker codes for the micro-tracker safely embedded in Elana’s wound glue. “How about the rental car company for the Hummer I’m driving?”

“It’s one we use regularly, and they’ve voluntarily lost your records,” Tweeter said. “I see you’re online now. I’m sending you a location at which you can drop off the Hummer. There’ll be an Escalade in the auto-pick-up lane. I got you one with a top-notch computer system and an all-weather package.”

“Good, and again my thanks,” Vanko said. “Ren, Demidas is my biggest worry now. He knows we were at the ambassador’s residence and will be onto us.”

“The Chernovs are doing everything they can to cover their tracks.” Ren hesitated then added, “Don’t alarm Elana, but Demidas sent the Tortutov brothers after them.”

“
Pizdets
! Those fuckers are bad news.” Vanko said.

“Well, they’re now history,” Ren replied. “The Tortutovs made the mistake of following the uncles to Elana’s apartment late on Sunday night and then tried to break in. The Chernovs easily took them out. If Elana’s uncles ever want a job with SSI, I’ll give them one.”

“This is excellent news. Their loss will hit Demidas hard. The Tortutovs were part of his trusted inner circle. They’ll be hard to replace.” But Vanko wouldn’t tell Elana about how close her uncles had come to death. “Demidas might not come into the United States himself, but he can hire local talent to kidnap Elana. And Crocker still might try to eliminate Elana to cover his own ass. I’m not letting my guard down on any front.” Not until she was tucked safely into his big bed in Sanctuary.

“Wouldn’t think you’d act any differently,” Ren said.

Vanko and Ren had worked in the shadow world so long their paranoia had paranoia.

“Tweeter? Keely? Can you stay on top of the intelligence chatter, and let me know when I really need to start worrying about our enemies? I want to give Elana at least one more full day of rest before we hit the road.”

“Sure,” Keely said. “What should I tell the Chernovs?”

“Tell them I’ll call them by late Tuesday evening and give them a sit rep on where to meet us, be it Chicago or some elsewhere.”

“When you decide on the meeting place, let us call them. One less phone trail for some hacker to stumble across,” Keely suggested.

“Good idea.” It would also put off any over-protective uncle chats for a while. He didn’t think he could hold his tongue if they convinced Elana to put off moving in and marrying him.

“Get some rest, buddy,” Ren said. “Talk at you tonight at 2200 hours, your time, unless you need us sooner. We still have a Lodge full of guests, but Tweeter, Keely, or I will always be around to take calls or respond to your e-mails.”

“Tell Risto and Callie congratulations and that I’m sorry I missed the wedding.” But he was over-the-moon-happy he’d been the one to go after Elana. “Out.”

“Will do,” Ren said. “Out.”

Vanko powered off the burner cell and smashed it under his boot. He’d throw the pieces of this one and the other Elana had used to call her uncles in a gas station trash can when he went to switch out vehicles and buy Elana some snow boots. He’d also get her some luxury body products; the outlet mall had several stores that carried such items. The hotel products weren’t good enough for his lady. She deserved only the best, and he intended to give it to her.

He finished his coffee and began to read some of the attachments Tweeter and Keely had sent. Man, MacLean had really fucked up when he screwed over his NSA lover. Finally, he read the e-mail with the car rental data and looked on Google maps.

The rental agency was less than a mile from the hotel, and not too far from the outlet mall. He could make one easy trip and be back in less than an hour. He didn’t want to leave Elana alone too long.

A rustling and a low moan came from the other room. He decided to put off his errands. Elana needed him to hold her through her nightmares. He powered down the computer. He then double-checked the security locks on the hotel room door and moved a chair over and lodged it under the door knob as an extra precaution. It wouldn’t stop a determined intruder with heavy weaponry, but it would make a lot of noise for anyone using less than lethal force and give Vanko enough time to get Elana into the safety of the bathroom.

He entered the bedroom and noted Elana had tried, unsuccessfully, to roll onto her back and had only made it part way. She must’ve hit her wound and that was what had caused her to moan. The pillow barricade he’d put up had done an okay job, but he could do better.

Gently turning her more fully onto her left side, he removed the pillows and slid into bed. He aligned his front to her back with his upper leg bent to brace her right leg as she cuddled the pillows in front of her. Her firm round butt was lodged against his lower abs. Now, she could only roll as far into him as he’d permit.

Vanko pulled up the sheet and extra blankets to their waist level, and then he cuddled her, his left arm anchored under her breasts and well above her wound.

She sighed and wiggled even closer against him. The sexy little noise and her bottom rubbing over the top of his erection made him groan. His cock hardened even more. He recalled the feel of her hands on his cock and balls, the look of love and desire in her eyes as she played with them in the shower, and then the hot suction of her mouth on his cockhead. God, he was hornier than he could ever remember. He began to field strip different weapons in his head to get his dick to subside. After he worked his way through two handguns and an M4 Carbine, his penis softened to a semi-erect state once more.
Dodged that land mine
. Elana didn’t need a randy cock boring into her when she needed to rest.

Yawning, he tucked his right arm under his pillow and inhaled her unique scent as he rested his head on her pillow. He nuzzled her hair aside so he could place a kiss on the back of her neck.

Her husky “Vanko” warmed him from head to toe. His cock throbbed and hardened once more.
Shit.
An erection looked to be a given when around Elana—or at least until he claimed her fully and had her a hundred times or so.
Mine.
Yes, she was
his.

He closed his eyes, happy in the knowledge that for now his woman was safe in his arms. He’d deal with tomorrow…tomorrow. Then he began mentally taking apart an AK-47, willing his cock to deflate so he could catch his battle nap.

Monday, December 5th, 10:00 A.M. (EST), Demidas’s Private Bahamian Island

Sergei sat on the private patio off his master suite and breathed in the balmy sea-scented air. On his massive plantation-style bed lay the most recent recipient of his anger-fueled lust; she wasn’t dead, but probably wished she were. He’d taken her hard after several hours of preparation in his playroom. The sheets would never be the same, and neither would she.

“Ziv,” he called. “I know you’re there. Have Nadia taken to her room, then report on the progress in finding my Elana.”

“Yes, Sergei.” Ziv spoke to someone; his low voice was lost in the sound of the crashing waves on the beach.

Sergei turned his head and observed one of his security detail carrying Nadia, a sex slave in training for one of his Iranian clients, out of the room. A maid hurried into the room, her face turned toward the bed and only the bed. Ah, yes, little Rosa. He’d fucked the Bahamian girl the last time he’d been in residence; she wouldn’t want to look at him directly for fear he’d want a repeat of that sexual performance. She’d been an anal virgin. She didn’t need to worry. Until he had Elana within his keeping once more, he wanted only women with pale skin, mink-colored hair, light eyes, and with Elana’s aristocratic features, not dusky-skinned island girls.

Ziv stood over Rosa as she quickly and efficiently changed the bed. His man then escorted the woman from the room with a final, almost affectionate, pat on her round bottom.

After Ziv closed the door, Sergei turned. “You like the little maid, eh?”

His friend gave an abrupt nod.

“She’s yours.” Sergei liked to give his men what they needed to keep them loyal.

“Thank you, Sergei.” Ziv moved to stand next to him. “May I sit?”

Sergei waved a hand to the lounge next to his. “Please. Have some vodka.”

Ziv poured himself a double of the rare vodka made on one of Sergei’s own estates and then leaned back on the lounge with a sigh. “I like it here, Sergei. It is peaceful.”

“
Da
. So unlike the streets of our youth.” Sergei raised his glass in a salute and downed it in one gulp. He reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass.

For several seconds, both men enjoyed their drinks and the calming influence of the beautiful tropical morning after the hectic hours of travel from Moscow to the Bahamas and then the helicopter trip from Nassau to the private island.

“So, tell me…What’s going on with the hunt for Elana?” Sergei sipped his vodka and savored the burn all the way to his stomach. Good vodka, a loyal friend, sexual release, a tropical island paradise, and the hope he’d soon have Elana by his side made him happy with his world.

“Crocker is now working for us.” Ziv turned and held Sergei’s gaze.

“What is his status with U.S. law enforcement?” Sergei asked.

“Crocker is being sought for several crimes. But the FBI and Homeland have no leads on his whereabouts.” Ziv chuckled. “He is flying under their radar, which is good for our needs. He will be a good one to take all the blame later…after we have Elana back. There is a substantial reward on his head.”

Sergei pinned Ziv with a stare. “What about the Chernovs? Have the Tortutov brothers captured them yet?”

A dark look crossed Ziv’s face and he looked away, out over the ocean.

A sick feeling lodged in Sergei’s stomach. “Tell me.”

“We lost contact with them after they reached D.C. We’re assuming they’re dead or captured.”

Sergei barely kept his anger under control. The Tortutovs, like Ziv, had been with him since they were teenagers. Their effectiveness as his primary enforcers was legendary in Western Europe and the Middle East. If they were lost to him, it would be devastating. He had no other enforcers he trusted at his back. “Find out, Ziv. And, if they are dead, put out a contract on their killers. Our friends must be avenged.”

Ziv’s face was an expressionless mask. “We are working on this now. You’ll know as soon as I know.”

Throttling back his rage, Sergei took another large gulp of his drink and then turned the topic back to his primary concern, Elana. “Does Crocker have a plan to find Elana?”

“Peters told me Crocker is using his own hacker in an attempt to get a line on Petriv and Elana’s movements. We are feeding any intelligence we get to Crocker’s man.” Ziv poured more vodka into his glass and took a shot. “Plus, with Elana’s uncles still in the hunt…”

When Sergei growled, Ziv stopped speaking. “Continue,” Sergei said, waving the hand holding the vodka.

“…they will eventually lead him to Elana. The weather is bad in the Northwest and, now, in the Midwest, so Crocker has time to find Elana before the path to Idaho and Sanctuary is travelable.”

“We are paying Crocker how much?” Sergei asked.

“Ten million U.S. dollars. Half of that is in his account.” Ziv coughed. “We will never get it back, Sergei. His computer man is better than ours. They had the deposit gone and hidden in another account before our man could even tag it.”

Sergei shrugged. “Cost of doing business.” Five million dollars was a mere drop in the bucket compared to his gross earnings. “Tell Crocker he will get a bonus of another five million to have Elana here by Tuesday evening. It is a nice incentive, yes?” He smiled at his friend who nodded. “That bonus and the other five million he’ll never collect since he’ll be dead as soon as he delivers Elana.”

Ziv’s lips quirked into as much of a smile as Sergei had ever seen on the man’s lips. “I will see that Crocker and his men are disposed of myself.”

Sergei grunted. “Good man. Now what about the bastard who ordered my Elana killed? The U.S. traitor.” Ziv had noticeably avoided that issue.

“It is not good news.” Ziv frowned. “Several hours after Peters spoke to Crocker, the U.S. Department of Justice issued a warrant for the arrest of Captain Sydney MacLean, an aide to the head of the DIA’s human intelligence collection division. MacLean left work on Saturday and has not been seen since. He is assumed to have escaped the United States. Peters told me Crocker reported MacLean to the U.S. so as not to be the
fall guy,
as Peters called it.”

“Find MacLean. Wherever he goes to hide, unearth him.” Sergei drank the rest of his vodka in one shot and slammed the glass down. He would not countenance a continuing threat to his woman. “Find him and send the info to SSI with my compliments.”

“Yes, Sergei.” Ziv stood and inclined his head. “I will leave you to your rest.”

Sergei waved a hand at Ziv. “Go and enjoy yourself with the little Rosa. You deserve a boon.”

“Thank you, Sergei.” Ziv turned and left the room, closing the door quietly after him.

Sergei stood and stripped off his robe. Bypassing the infinity pool he never used because of his fear of drowning, he entered the hot tub positioned to overlook the white sand beach. A relaxing session in the bubbling warm water was just what he needed to help dissipate his anger and frustration at not being able to retrieve Elana himself. As he settled into the cushioned bench seat, he thought of Elana and how he would take her from behind in the tub so he could simultaneously enjoy the view of her ass receiving him and the beautiful ocean view off his terrace. Paradise indeed.

* * * *